Sense and French Ability (25 page)

Melodie was satisfied with the toy that was included with her box of food and Jo helped her to put it together. Then they spent the next twenty minutes winding the tiny mechanism and racing it across the table.

Other families smiled and watched with benevolence. Children were welcomed in family gatherings in France, even in formal restaurants, never mind this kind of place, and leeway was given for a bit of noise and playfulness.

*

The next morning, they climbed stairs and walked along corridors, looking for the room to which Jean Chri had been transferred. All hospitals smelled the same, it seemed to Fliss. Someone in a white coat passed in the opposite direction, nodding a greeting and saying “Mesdames,” politely. Two
gendarmes
passed and nodded also, heading for the exit, presumably having completed their business.

Finally they found the correct room. Here the patients were in one or two bedrooms with a small bathroom and a television. As Fliss opened the door carefully and peeped around she saw that the other bed was currently empty, for which she was grateful. Melodie and she walked hand in hand, as silently as possible, to Jean Chri’s side. He was sleeping. As they approached his eyes slid open, and he smiled.

“Fliss, Melodie. My two favourite girls. You will never know how good it is to see you,” Jean Chri mumbled sleepily.

“I do know,” Fliss said meaningfully as she bent to kiss his forehead. “We won’t stay long. The nurse said you need rest, but we had to come as soon as they would let us. Yesterday you were all wired up so Melodie couldn’t come in to the room you were in and I was only allowed a quick look.”

“You were here yesterday?”

“Of course,” Fliss reassured him. “Jo drove us here. She’s waiting just outside the room, now.”

He reached for Fliss’ hand. There was so much to say. Melodie sat on the edge of his bed and as he put his arm around her she snuggled into him.

“I have things to tell you,” he said looking meaningfully from Melodie to Fliss. “Perhaps in a few minutes Melodie can keep Jo company.” He had tears in his eyes.

‘He must be exhausted,’ Fliss thought.

After a few moments longer Fliss told Melodie that Jean Chri was tired and she took her to Jo, promising to return imminently, just for a while.

Upon Fliss’s return, Jean Chri rolled onto his side, pulling her onto the bed to lie with him. He cradled her gently as, with tears rolling silently down his face and into her hair, he told her the awful news.

“The gendarmes have just been. Melodie is an orphan.”

Chapter 25

It had been so good to have Jean Chri back home. Following his short stay in hospital, Fliss had collected him and they had gone to his house – hers was still full of people as the mopping up took place.

Firstly, back in the village, there had been the contamination suits as the main sewer pipe had punctured when the river bank washed away. Contractors arrived with massive machinery. Jo, Harriet and several of the others had to don the all in one suits in order to enter their homes to collect some of their more precious belongings. The structural inspector had said it was alright for them to go in to their houses. One or two others had not been allowed to as it was deemed unsafe. For those people it was hardest of all. All of their treasures were left alone and vulnerable.

It was difficult to tell people apart once they had the contamination suits on. They could be contract workers, who were arriving in their dozens, or villagers. Those houses with torchy walls were too flimsy and unsafe if, indeed, the mud and straw was there at all. Those with stone walls had fared slightly better, the lime mortar being more resilient than either torchy or cement, and block-work walls of more modern dwellings. Several houses were being raised to the ground. They had been assured that re-building would advance quickly.

The first meeting of the Regeneration Group was held. Harriet and Fliss had been asked to be part of this, as representatives of the British community in the immediate area. The sun was shining brightly but they walked briskly to the meeting, which was in the Mairie, unsure what to expect.

How strange it was to have such fresh, bright weather after what they had experienced. The building they entered, fortunately, had escaped the flood, being just far enough away from the river and on the slight rise that led up to Fliss’s house. The room was already quite full of people sitting around a long table. Some Fliss knew well, now, but many were strangers.

Fliss moved to greet the people with whom she was familiar, kissing those on each cheek and shaking hands with the others. Finally she sat between M. Demille and Harriet. She was pleased Harriet was there. She was a friendly face in a sea of formality and uncertainty – although M. Demille was almost a reformed character, and was becoming a good friend himself.

Fliss still had a house full of guests, of whom he was one. They had all come to an accommodation with regard to finances and living arrangements, however. It was the least she could do for these good people who had lost so much and who felt like stateless citizens.

The meeting was called to order and Pierre le Bec asked everyone to introduce themselves. There were people from the main services, structural engineers, and various people with construction experience and roles to play in the massive undertaking. The discussion was quite hard for Fliss to follow, and she was glad that Harriet was there beside her. Every so often when getting lost in the technical aspects of the conversation, as Harriet did also, they were able to whisper a word here and there to each other in order to could catch up.

“I’m glad you are here,” Fliss whispered at one stage.

“Likewise,” Harriet answered. “It’s good of them to include us.”

Fliss responded with a smile and a nod. It certainly was. They were clearly considered a full part of the community now, especially since Fliss had been able to help those in the extremis of need through giving them a temporary home.

“The river bed has been raised by debris,” someone was saying. “The 1 in 10 slope has meant that we estimate seven thousand tonnes of debris has been washed down.”

A gasp rippled around the table.

“We shall excavate that. We expect to go one and a half metres down and about three metres across. We’ll use it to form a new flood defence along each bank of the river.”

The next issue referred to was the siting of the two enormous generators and the fuel tanks that had been airlifted in already. That had caused a stir of excitement when they arrived. Fliss found her attention wandering from the dialogue as she remembered the thick cables and enormous machinery involved. Even in such a short space of time, a massive amount had been achieved.

“We already have a promise of 1.2 million euros of grant funding from the EU,” a man who seemed very important was saying to Pierre le Bec, who must have asked where funding was coming from. “This has been a major emergency.”

“We have set up an appeal too,” Pierre announced. “Already we have received several hundreds of euros.”

“One of our first priorities will be to restore water and electricity, so we shall be digging 250 metres of trenches first.
Les pelleteuses
, are arriving as we speak,” the contract engineer was saying.

Fliss had seen an army of digging machines as she walked down the road.

“When might this be completed?” M. Demille asked.

“This work should be quite quick. We have already sent cameras down the existing pipework to see where punctures and blockages are, so the water and sewerage will be restored to those properties affected in a few days. All silted-up manholes are being dealt with now. You’ve probably seen that happening.”

There was some more talk about resurfacing roads as the water had gotten beneath the bitumen, causing long-term damage that needed to be mended.

“We will have a separate meeting to support those who are making insurance claims, so that house re-building can start as soon as possible and flood damage can be rectified,” Pierre said. “The insurance reps are coming later today. I’ve notified all the people involved.”

Fliss glanced at Harriet and she nodded a reassurance. Her claim would be small compared to some, but she still had suffered damage to her internal walls and furniture and she had lost some of her work in her studio. The cleaning up of mud and sewerage was a horrible task and needed to be done professionally. It all cost money.

Fliss was feeling exhausted with concentrating so hard and trying to follow all that was said. She saw her thoughts reflected in Harriet’s face.

“Finally, for today,” Pierre was saying. “We need to formally record a massive thank you to all those who turned out to help during the worst of the calamity, especially Jean Christophe Rochefort. He cannot be here today as he is still recuperating and the animals of his farm demand his attention. It’s a miracle that more lives were not lost and it’s thanks to those who risked their own safety that this is so. Also, I should like to record my condolences to Jean Christophe for the loss of his brother and sister-in-law. I’m sure everyone here will join me in that.”

There was a general murmuring of assent. Fliss lowered her gaze. She still could not meet the looks of others just yet, so raw were her feelings. She felt Harriet’s hand creep across to hers and give a light squeeze of comfort.

The meeting finished, and there was a scraping of chairs as people stood. They milled about for a few moments, with Harriet and Fliss expressing their thanks for being included. They exited the Mairie to head back up the hill.

“The centre of the village is one massive building site. The drain smell is invasive isn’t it?” Harriet put her hand over her lower face.

“Those earth moving vehicles are enormous.” Fliss said. “With the huge reels of cables. The mud is so horrible and sticky that the workmen’s boots and coveralls are smothered.”

“It looks like a small village of caravans, toilet cabins and shower blocks across the valley. It’s all noise; banging, scraping and scooping. I can’t help wondering if it will ever be back to normal,” Harriet added.

*

On entering the house, the sight that greeted Fliss warmed her heart. Jean Chri was sitting by the fire with Melodie curled in his lap. Every time she saw him she was thankful that he was there, alive and healthy. Melodie had started to suck and chew Choupinette’s ears in the last few days, and she had not been smiling. Once or twice there had been major temper tantrums over nothing serious, followed alternately by whinging and whining. It was so unlike her.

Jean Chri had done the minimum that was necessary for the animals at the farm since Fliss collected him from hospital. He had been very tired but Fliss was so relieved to have him back with no further complications. Alexandre and Nicolas had continued to help out, fitting it around their own work.

Melodie and Jean Chri somehow needed to learn to live with their loss and they were helping each other. On occasions Fliss felt a little useless in that respect.

At times the three of them disappeared to Jean Chri’s house, splitting their time between their two homes. Fliss had telephoned all prospective holiday visitors to explain that she couldn’t accommodate them for several months. Everyone had heard of their misfortune. It had been on national, and even international, news programmes. All were very helpful and kind.

She had a house-full of locals staying already. All the people that Jean Chri rescued from the flood were still there. Sometimes the three of them needed their own space. They had tended to sleep at Jean Chri’s house. Each evening they had ensured Melodie was tucked up under her new covers beneath the princess canopy and then curled up together in Jean Chri’s bed.

“You have become my life,” he whispered into her hair. “When everything has been dark, you’ve been here to rescue me.”

“It’s only what you have done for me, when I was in such turmoil,” Fliss responded gently.

“We’ll get through this together, won’t we?” He asked for reassurance and Fliss gave it with ease.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else, ever.”

They heard soft sobbing and leaped out of bed to rush into Melodie’s room. She had not awoken and was crying in her sleep. She was restless and dreaming. Jean Chri stroked her forehead and rubbed her tummy until the nightmare passed. Fliss sat quietly with her arm around him. This was not the first time it had happened. Since the funeral Melodie had had terrible dreams. The doctor assured them that it would pass and that it was early days for her to understand and accept such a great loss. Thank goodness she had her uncle to comfort her. He alone understood how she was feeling and, as her guardian, he was be constancy for her. Thank goodness Melodie had this defence until a more formal arrangement was in place.

Jean Chri was facing his own demons surrounding the deaths of his brother and sister-in-law. He told Fliss something of the car being washed down-stream and she had only her imagination to help her understand what he had seen and felt.“It seems they must have set out in their car quite early, and been overtaken by sudden flood water as successive dams of trees had given way in the steep-sided valley. When the car was finally found they were still inside,” Pierre le Bec had told them.

“In truth there was nothing more you could possibly have done to prevent the tragedy. That part was already complete by the time you saw the car,” Fliss told Jean Chri.

Both he and their little one would be angry, in time, and would question whether more could have been done to avoid the situation that had caused the death of Melodie’s parents. Eventually they would accept the loss. Didn’t Fliss know all this? Wasn’t it all too familiar? All she could do was to be there for each of them and comfort them whenever she could.

*

There was also the lighter side to the healing of their family and their village.

Madame Demille had found a sense of humour eventually and had told everyone how she had been pestering her husband for a water feature in the middle of their lawn.

“Yes,” he said. “She wanted one of those huge dolphin or fish things with water coming out of its mouth.”

“I got a bit more than I bargained for with that one,” she laughed.

There was the time when Jo went to visit their house and found three large fish on the lawn. Sadly, they were past their best.

“I didn’t think we would need them for dinner.” She had smiled at Harriet.

Jerome was getting Éric to drive him to the market as it was finishing, just before midday each Friday. He managed to chat to various stall holders. He must have told them of the trials and tribulations, because he returned with boxes and boxes of produce each week. Some of it was past its prime but much was fit for use and he continued to come up each day to cook for the crowd at Fliss’s house. Only Jerome’s cellar had flooded, his house unscathed. The rabbits, chickens, turkeys and ducks had all survived; the birds flying up into the bushes and stumpy trees.

Fliss felt sorry to have eaten some of them. Without exception, all the villagers were very complimentary about both Jerome’s cooking and his generosity of spirit. Even the Demilles were helpful, pleasant and friendly. M. Demille was still pernickety, and stated his point of view unfailingly, but everyone either ignored him or shouted him down rather than kowtowing as they once had. He was learning to accept that he was not always right about everything. Generally everyone had become more tolerant.

*

Two years passed quickly enough. They were all back in business. So much had been achieved with a quiet determination in the time that had passed.

Fliss was walking down the street in the gentle sunshine. At the bridge she stopped to stand and stare down into the burbling, gentle water and could not help remembering. The old bridge had been replaced with a new wider and slightly higher one. It still had troughs of flowers that were burgeoning with beautiful colour. As Fliss looked along the river banks, she could not help but see how different it all was.